Artwork
by Artistard3
Summary: Topanga takes Maya to a portfolio review for an art program over the summer and she sees Maya's dark artwork. Topanga and Maya talk about it, but Maya is nervous that the Matthews will think of her differently once they see her art, the art she has never shown anyone.
1. Chapter 1

**Thanks for reading! I really want to know what you all think, so please review. I might continue this into a longer fanfic.**

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Maya started drawing at the age of five. Those drawings were made on crayon and construction paper. They looked like any other kids's drawing: a chaotic mess of scribbles that barely resembled anything. She continued to draw, on her own.

At age six, Daddy had already left, and Mommy had been very upset all the time. Maya drew pictures of herself and Mommy holding hands, without Daddy in it, because her mom told her that Daddy had "gone on a long vacation."

She didn't draw at the age of seven. She met Riley Matthews and Riley took up a lot of her time. Maya spent a lot of time with Riley's family as well, and Riley's one year old brother.

Maya realized her dad wasn't in her life anymore by the age of eight, when it had been two years since he left. She accepted it. Her mommy had started dating new guys but they never stayed around. She drew pictures in her room, and she started to paint, with the paint set that the Matthews had given Riley. Riley didn't want it, so she gave it to Maya. Maya loved it, although she didn't show anybody her work. Her mom was too busy trying to pay for the both of them.

At age nine, Maya's mom explained why Maya didn't have a daddy. It was because her mom chased him away. Maya got a little angry at her mom, but she was still confused about everything. Maya was happy when she was around Riley, though. That was why she liked Riley's house better than her own. She smiled a whole lot more when she was over there.

She hadn't done much art on her own from age ten to twelve, except for the occasional doodling in class. She felt bad that she and her mom didn't talk that often, but it wasn't like she was ever home.

Maya hadn't shown anyone her art until the age of thirteen, when Farkle caught her in the act of drawing the sky in the library.

She started taking art classes in school, mostly because it was a beginning of the year requirement for seventh grade, and she realized that her art changed with her mood.

She was older, she was better, and she was able to express herself easier. When Maya was in school, when she was around Riley and Farkle and Lucas, her art was bright. It was full of hope and shades of colors like purple and pink and orange and yellow: happy colors, colors that resembled what she wanted in life. It consisted of big solid shapes, colorful ones that essentially resembled hope.

Maya also did art by herself, at age thirteen. She had set up a studio in her room, which consisted of a sketchbook, a couple canvases and an easel (which she got at yard sale), a paint palette, red, blue, yellow, black, and white acrylic paint, a soup can for water, and five paint brushes. She spent hours in the middle of the night when she couldn't sleep by mixing colors, rich bright, screw-you colors, like dark blue and magenta and lime green, ones she could sink her hands into and feel between her fingers. This art was aggressive. It was how she dealt with her feelings. The anniversary of the day her father had left her: she painted. The days she went home from school, without a curfew, because her mom was too busy trying to make money to supervise Maya's adventures around the city: she painted.

These paintings were different than the ones she made at school. There was harsh mark-making, and dark colors like black and navy blue and red, and portraits of herself with her organs falling out and with her fingernails digging into her skin. She hid all of these in her closet: no one over went in there. There were probably about twenty to thirty pieces from over the years.

She honestly didn't think anyone would see them; she didn't want them too. It was embarrassing. She was just painting what she felt, but she didn't want anyone to know she felt that way. She couldn't identify her feelings by herself.

The summer between seventh and eighth grade, Maya was organizing her art on her bed, all of her hidden pieces were splayed out everywhere. She was going to use them in a portfolio for a summer program she was applying to at the local college, for incoming high schoolers.

That's when everything went to hell.


	2. Chapter 2

She hadn't shown anyone the work she did at home, not even her art teacher. The person evaluating the portfolio wasn't going to be anyone she knew, which made it easier.

She had lugged all of her art to Riley's house, where she was leaving from to get to the portfolio review. The whole time she was at the Matthew's house, she held onto the portfolio despite its heaviness. If anyone were to see it, they would have thought of her differently, because her art wasn't what they had expected.

Topanga drove Maya to the review, since she had to be accompanied by an adult.

When she arrived, they told her to lay out her pieces in the room, and to wait while a group the professors looked at it. Then they called her in to talk about it. It was very nerve wracking. Maya was a people person, most of the time. She wasn't shy about anything, except for her family life and maybe now, her art.

When it was over, they thanked her. The people who critiqued her artwork called it "expressive" and "freaky, in a good way."

They wanted her to leave the portfolio there so that they could talk about it while they contemplated her admission.

She felt good.

A week later, she had been at the Matthews eating dinner. "Maya, honey. The art program you applied for called me. I picked up your portfolio on the way here."

"You did? So I guess I didn't get in, right?" Maya laughed.

"No. Maya, you got in," Topanga told her, smiling.

"Congratulations, Peaches!" Riley cried.

"That's amazing, Maya," Corey smiled.

"Thanks guys," Maya said, continuing to eat her food. All the sudden she remembered what Topanga said.

"Wait... You already picked my portfolio up?" Maya asked, holding her breath.

"Yeah. It's by the door, sweetie," Topanga said, pointing.

"Okay, thank you," Maya said, trying to sound more appreciative than fearful.

When the girls were about to skip into Riley's room after dinner, Topanga asked Maya to bring her portfolio into Topanga's room.

Maya agreed, because Riley's parents were an important part of her life too.

Topanga told Riley and Cory to go to Riley's room while the two of them talked, which made Maya uneasy.

"Yes, Mrs. Matthews?" Maya asked as she closed the door, setting the portfolio on the bed.

Topanga patted the spot next to her for Maya to sit on.

"Look, Maya. I'm going to be blunt. I had to look at your art to help pack it up so I could bring it back. It had been sitting out because they were using it as an example to show the type of art they were looking for in other portfolios," Topanga said, staring at Maya.

"So you saw it," Maya confirmed, biting her lip.

Topanga nodded. "You are so talented."

"Thanks," Maya half smiled, awkwardly, knowing what was coming.

"I know art can be personal. So you don't have to tell me. I just want to know what is going on in your head, if you'll share it with me," Topanga told her.

"I don't know," Maya mumbled, using her finger nail to pick at her other finger nail, a nervous habit.

"It just kinda happened," she mumbled, pulling her art out of the portfolio. She might as well get it over with.

"You don't have to-" Topanga offered.

"No, I do," Maya disagreed, laying her art out on the bed taking a deep breath.

"I started painting like this last year. I don't know why, Mrs. Matthews. I paint when I'm sad or angry. This just happened. Why did it happen?" Maya asked, looking at the one woman besides her mom that she thought of as a mother figure.

"You know how Riley keeps a diary, Maya?" Topanga asked. "I think this is your diary. You just paint your feelings. And it's okay to feel sad, or angry sometimes," Topanga said,

Maya let out a breath she didn't even know she was holding.

"Do you think of me differently, now, Mrs. Matthews. Do you still trust me?" Maya asked.

"Of course I do. Why wouldn't I?" Topanga asked her daughter's best friend.

"Because I've been lying to you all. You all think I'm some tough, rebellious girl, someone who doesn't have feelings... everyone thinks that," Maya shrugged, keeping her eyes trained on the self-portrait with her finger nails digging into her arm.

"We don't think that, Maya. We just know that you don't like to be as open with your vulnerability as Riley," Topanga told her.

Maya could feel her insides churn.

"It just hurts me when everyone refers to my home life as a joke," Maya frowned, sighing.

"Well, you don't, Mrs. Matthews. You haven't. But everyone else has: Riley, Mr. Matthews, Lucas, Farkle," Maya frowned.

"So why haven't you? I'm just completely messed up, aren't I? You're just afraid to break me, especially after you've seen my disturbing artwork?" Maya laughed bitterly.

"Riley and Cory and everyone who ever made fun of your home life didn't mean to hurt you. They didn't know they were hurting you, Maya. I'm sorry. I'll talk to them for you if you want," Topanga told her.

"I'll do it myself. Thanks for everything, Mrs.

Matthews," Maya smiled.

"No problem, Maya," Topanga said. Maya packed up her portfolio and opened Topanga's bedroom door, and Riley and Cory were there, listening in.

"We couldn't help it, Peaches," Riley said.

"I get it honey," Maya smiled, pulling Riley into a hug.

"I'm sorry, Maya. I didn't realize that I was hurting you," Cory apologized.

"Thanks," she half smiled.

"I'm sorry to," Riley cried, enveloping Maya in a bone-crushing hug.

"It's fine, Riles," Maya smiled.

Maya showed her artwork to the Matthews, and she realized they thought her art was good.

They thought she was good. And that was all she ever wanted. To be good.

•••

 **thanks for reading (:**


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